NCIS: Phantasm
by TnJAGAz
Summary: An NCIS Episode. An assistant coach (Marine Reservist) for the LFL [Lingerie Football League] is found dead, and the DC Major Case Response Team must figure out who killed him. This takes place shortly after the beginning of the New Year and before "Ships in the Night".
1. Chapter 1

NCIS

Title:**phantasm**

Author: TnJAGAz aka txncistn

Rating: G/PG [some language, violence, etc.]

Classification: A NCIS Episode. An assistant coach (Marine Reservist) for the LFL is found dead, and the DC Major Case Response Team must figure out who killed him….this takes place shortly after the beginning of the New Year and before "Ships in the Night".

Spoilers: Anything from Seasons 1-8.

Summary and Author Notes: This is little different from my usual vignettes – this is actually a story – call it an episodette… And my wife gets kudos for coming up with this one – I just wrote the story as she gave it to me. Thanks to Janlaw for technical advice NCIS and reservist-wise.

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the property of Donald Bellisario/Charles Johnson/Shane Brennan, Belisaurius Productions, Paramount Pictures and Columbia Broadcasting Service Entertainment – this story is for non-profit entertainment of NCIS fans only. No copyright infringement is intended or implied.

***Phoof* **

**Colton holding a squeeze bottle stands on the sidelines and says ' I…I'm not feeling well' then slowly drops to his knees and then pitches forward on his face. **

The loudspeakers reverberated with serious NFL style music as lively crowd whooped and cheered on their favorite teams.

Then an announcer broke in over the music: "And with just under two minutes left in the half, The Mist leads The Bombshells by three…

On the field there was frenetic activity as the two teams – one dressed in red two piece bikini lingerie and the other dressed in blue two piece bikini lingerie grappled with each other. Suddenly a football arced out of the colorful group and into the hands of a lone red bikini'ed player who then sailed the ball to another red bikini wearing player who had just crossed the line of scrimmage, headed for a first down.

"And Lewiston goes for her famous long bomb and it is … good! Brittany Wills runs for six!"

There was an audible roar from the crowd, one side cheering, the other side taking the opportunity to boo what they considered a 'lucky' play.

On the sidelines, assistant coach James 'Jimmy' Colton took a pull from the squeeze bottle just handed to him. "Chantal! Get in there!" he ordered.

"…Ball on the 16… Amber Georgette snaps it to Monica Green – but here comes Chantal 'the train' Weeks…Ooo! What a hit! Green has officially been 'trainwrecked'!"

The crowd reacted viscerally to the larger woman slamming the smaller one to the artificial turf.

Everyone on the sidelines was yelling and cheering except for Marine reservist Staff Sergeant and Assistant Bethesda Bombshells' Coach James 'Jimmy' Colton, who looked nauseated. He turned to Safety Meredith Leigh. "I…I'm not feeling so good…" he groaned.

Meredith shot him a look of concern. "What's the problem, James?"

Despite his nausea, Jimmy Colton still managed to look irritated. "Merry, I've told you before. Out here, it's Coach or-uhhhh…."

The Assistant Coach slowly kneeled to the turf and then collapsed face first.

Meredith squatted down next to him, a look of unease growing on her face as she touched his back. "Hey coach? Coach? Coach? James! What's the matter? Oh My God! Someone get Doc Travers!"

The Bombshell's Head Coach, Robert 'R.R.' Richardson, pushed his way through the group of Bombshell teammates crowding around the unmoving Colton. "Time out! Time out! Hey! Somebody get the Doc!"

The loudspeakers in the stadium echoed Richardson. "Ladies and Gentlemen, there has been a time out called, as the team doctor checks on the assistant coach for the Bombshells…"

The sideline cameras showed tighter and tighter shots on Colton's unmoving form. As the team doctor hustled out to the sidelines, he could see a growing pool of blood coming from Colton. Meredith was now sobbing frantically, trying to get a response from Assistant Coach Colton.

**xxixx**

**The scene shifted** to the NCIS Major Case Response Team [MCRT] sitting at their desks. Ziva David was massaging her temples. Tim McGee was trying to get comfortable in his chair and failing miserably. Both Agents had only shown up only moments ago. They had told Gibbs they were 'following up on leads' to outstanding cases for the better part of the morning, and though Gibbs knew better, he let it slide. After all, it had been a pretty slow day in the office.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs, still wearing his dark brown winter overcoat that he wore to lunch, breezed through the MCRT squad area ignoring Ziva and Tim as they hurriedly began typing on their keyboards, trying to look busy. Senior Agent Anthony 'Tony' DiNozzo who had been watching what looked like a risqué video on You Tube was about to say something witty to his fellow agents but his comments were cut off by Gibbs' terse report.

"Grab your gear and let's roll! Dead Staff Sergeant in Bethesda!"

He looked over at Tony who was obviously hitting keys trying to stop the video as he yanked his ear buds out his ears. "You drive," he said to the former Baltimore Police Department detective as he tossed the keys to their crime scene van.

Tony grinned as he started to get up. "Happy to, Boss!"

"I thought you would be," Gibbs said to himself as he noticed the obviously ailing Tim and Ziva. Without breaking stride, he reached into his coat pocket and tossed packets to the two agents. "This will take the edge off your pain,"

When he didn't hear them following behind him, he turned around with Drill Instructor scowl on his face. "Let's go!" he barked.

Tony grabbed his sidearm and backpack as he scooted out of his workstation area and hurried to join Gibbs. Tim and Ziva quickly ripped open their packets and using the coffee they had been nursing, quickly downed the pain pills as they rushed to grab their gear and catch up with Gibbs and Tony.

**xxixx**

**As they got seated** in the truck, Tony turned to Gibbs. "Where to, Boss?"

"Bethesda Municipal Arena," the silver headed Senior NCIS Agent replied as he buckled himself in.

"Oh! Oh ho! Ho! Ho!" Tony said as he turned over the engine. "This is great! The LFL!"

Ziva was still fastening her seat belt when she looked up, confused by the acronym. "LFL? What is the LFL?"

Tony was bursting at the seams as he drove the truck out of the garage. He shot a glance at Ziva. "Only the greatest sports league ever invented!"

**xxixx**

**Gibbs took the lead as the four NCIS Special Agents** made their way down the sidelines in the arena past knots of fans, security officials, paramedics and Bethesda police, both uniform officers and plainclothes detectives.

Tim did his best to carry the multiple bags of equipment. "Tony, the least you could do is carry some of this."

Tony did not even bother looking over at the struggling MIT Graduate. He was looking around "I'm the senior field agent, McGee. If you want someone to carry some of our equipment, you should ask the Probie to carry it."

Tim turned to former Mossad Agent Ziva David.

"Ziva?"

The lithe NCIS probationary agent ignored Tim.

"Ziva, uh, a little help here…"

Still no response.

"Ziva!"

Startled, Ziva whirled on Tim. "Do not shout McGee! I am not deaf!"

Tim momentarily started at her response, but was not apologetic. "Well, you ignored me when I asked you twice before," he said defensively.

"I did not ignore you, I simply didn't hear you," she said by way of an explanation. She looked pleadingly at Tony.

"A little help here?"

Tony was unmoved. "Senior Field Agent, Probie," he said smugly.

Ziva blew out a frustrated breath then roughly grabbed at one of Tim's bags containing i-Pads, evidence kits, markers, gloves and coveralls.

Tim straightened up a little as she took the bag. "Thanks, Ziva," he said gratefully.

"Don't mention it," Ziva said with some effort.

Tony DiNozzo's eyes scanned the length of the arena. "You two ought to look around. That would get your minds off your troubles…."

Tim snorted. "I would Tony," he grumbled, "but I've got a sore neck."

"Oh?" Tony said with mock concern. "How did that happen?"

Tim thought that Tony was genuinely interested. "Well, I'm not sure. I was doing some relaxation exercises because I was tense, you know, with the holidays and everything, and Sarah insisted I try this new one she had just learned…"

Tony, though, had stopped feigning interest, again caught up in the rapture of being in this sports stadium. "Yeah, uh huh…"

Tim shook his head disgustedly, realizing Tony wasn't really interested in his explanation. He looked over at Ziva who seemed to be struggling with the bag he had just given her.

"Are you okay, Ziva?"

Ziva flashed Tim a brief smile as thanks for his concern. "I am fine, McGee," she said reassuringly, "I am just suffering from a…a hang-up."

"You mean hang-over, Ziva," Tony said distractedly.

Ziva fought the urge to grit her teeth. "Yes, Tony, a hang-over - not that it is any of your concern-"

Tony stopped suddenly. "I am *always concerned* about the welfare of my fellow agents," he said officiously.

Tim tried hard not to snort as he continued walking, but Ziva stopped and gave Tony a suspicious look. "Oh really?" Ziva said, not believing him for a moment.

Tony's flinty stare met hers. "Really." They stood there for a moment, and then Ziva shook her head and began walking again. Tony moved up next to her.

"Was this the result of some wild weekend fun with your friend, Ray?" Tony said conspiratorially.

The former Mossad agent was incensed. She stomped away from him. "I will not dignify that with an answer!"

Tony grinned broadly as he hurried to catch up with her. "Oh, so it was. Hope it was worth it…."

**xxixx**

**Gibbs meanwhile had made his way** up to the plainclothes detective who seemed to be in charge.

"Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS," He said flashing his wallet badge and ID to the neatly dressed detective. "Special Agents DiNozzo, McGee, and David. So what happened?"

The detective nodded to the Agents. "Lieutenant Neil Gold, Bethesda Homicide." He looked down at his well-worn notepad. "Your victim is Marine Reservist Staff Sergeant James R. Colton, thirty eight. He was working as an assistant coach for the Bethesda Bombshells. Collapsed on the sidelines towards the end of the game after stating he wasn't feeling well. When we got here, they admitted to us he had been shot. When we found out he was a reservist, we called you."

Gibbs looked around. "I don't see the body."

Gold made a face. It was obvious he was as irritated as Gibbs was about this fact.

"The Bombshell's owner, Angie Simmons, had him moved before we arrived."

"Where's Colton now?" Gibbs asked pointedly.

Gold smiled in sympathy. He knew how the Special Agent felt. He hated it when the uninformed tampered with a crime scene. "In the clinic. C'mon, I'll take you back there…."

**xxixx**

**The MCRT and Gold walked** into the clinic. Colton was laid out on the examining table as if he were sleeping. Over to one side was the Bombshell's team doctor who had the decency to look sheepish about the situation as Gibbs glared at him. The clinic's doctor looked as if he wanted to disappear. A woman her early forties wearing a black power suit strode over to Gold and Gibbs and extended her hand.

"Angie Simmons. I'm the Bombshell's manager-"

Gibbs gave her an irritated look, ignoring the hand. "Who told you to move my body?" he said brusquely.

Simmons' face grew hard. "Your body? I had Coach Colton moved because he collapsed in a public area, Officer-"

"Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS." said correcting her.

She looked at the Bethesda detective. "NCIS? As in Crime Scene Investigation?"

Gold fought the urge to smile. "Naval Criminal Investigative Service, Ms. Simmons. They are taking over the investigation-"

"The Navy? Why? He's not Navy." She blustered.

"Because your dead assistant coach is also a Marine non-commissioned officer, ma'am." Tony said quickly in as neutral a tone as he could manage because he knew Gibbs' answer to her would be even less tactful.

"And you are?" she shot back.

"Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo," Tony said in his best diplomatic tone. "Senior Field Agent."

She turned back to Gibbs, ignoring Tony. "So you're here because Colton is a Marine even though he's just a reservist?" Angie Simmons said 'reservist' in such a way that it sounded like a less than desirable position.

Which only resulted in stoking the silver-haired team leader's anger even more.

Gibbs focused his steel blue eyes on the Bombshell's owner. "Staff Sergeant James R. Colton has been murdered, and thanks to you moving the body, you've compromised my crime scene!"

"Well, we just couldn't leave him lying out there on the sidelines, Special Agent Gibbs!" Angie said hotly as she got nose to nose with him. "There were families in that audience as well as cameras! It would have been a media circus! Besides I thought Dr. Tavers could revive him better back here!"

Gibbs couldn't believe her superciliousness. "Revive him? Your Assistant Coach was shot! Did you ever think to just leave the body where it was and cover it with a sheet?"

Angie rolled her eyes at the arrogance of this thick-headed Navy Cop. "There still would have been people snapping pictures, Special Agent Gibbs! The images would have been all over Facebook and You Tube! We can't afford that kind of publicity!"

Gibbs was tired of dealing with this know-it-all. He turned to his team. "Tony, sketches. McGee, start taking photos. Ziva, bag and tag."

The three agents began doing their jobs. Ziva moved close to Colton and began examining his clothes. Tony got out his i-Pad and began sketching the body, and Tim began taking photos of the dead Staff Sergeant.

"Single gunshot wound to the chest, Boss. No other injuries." Tim reported.

Simmons was livid at being ignored by this pompous government employee and his lackeys. "That's it? Who do you think you are, Special Agent Gibbs?"

Neil Gold gently steered the Bombshell's owner out of the room. "Let's go up to your office and talk Ms. Simmons."

Something in the detective's voice momentarily slaked Angie Simmons' venom. She nodded and left with him but not before shooting Gibbs an evil look which he ignored.

Tim continued snapping photos of Colton.

Ziva looked closely at the Staff Sergeant's hands and then looked over at Doctor Lewis Tavers, the Bombshell's doctor.

"Was he drinking anything before he collapsed?" she asked.

Travers' nodded. "He was, from this," and handed her Colton's squeeze bottle.

The former Mossad agent unscrewed the lid to the plastic bottle and waved her hand over the neck opening of the bottle toward her nostrils. She noticed an odd odor coming from the bottle.

Ziva screwed the lid back into place and then took the bottle, put it into a plastic evidence bag and sealed it.

"What is it, Ziver?" Gibbs said moving close to her. He motioned Tim over as well.

"A hunch, Gibbs. There could be poison in this bottle."

Tim took out a small PDA like device out of his bag and aimed it at the bottle.

"What's that, McSpock?" Tony said looking over his shoulder. "It looks like one of those things they used on the original Star Trek…"

"You mean a tricorder, Tony." Tim said giving him a snide smirk. "Actually that's the nickname for this device. It can scan any liquid or solid in a bottle and tell us what's actually in it…"

"So what does it say?" Ziva asked trying to get a better look at the screen.

"It's still processing…wait…here it is…water…and a fairly high concentration of contact lens cleaner…"

Ziva and Gibbs traded grim looks.

**xxixx**

**Having done everything they could** with the body until Medical Examiner Dr. Donald Ducky Mallard arrived, Gibbs left Tim and Dr. Travers with Colton while he, Tony, and Ziva went out to the compromised crime scene to salvage what they could.

Ziva looked around as Tony and Gibbs began to examine where Colton fell. Her eyes settled on the electronic scoreboard: **Mist 20** **Bombshells 17**

That brought back to the Probationary Agent's mind her original question about this whole thing.

"Just who are the Bombshells and the Mist? And what exactly is the LFL?"

Gibbs, not finding anything useful on the sideline, walked past Ziva headed back towards the clinic. "Lingerie Football League, Ziva." he said as he passed his two agents. "Less talk, more investigating…." he added drolly as he started to head back inside.

"Got'cha Boss," Tony said almost automatically. "Concentrating more on the investigating."

Ziva David though was still confused despite the answer Gibbs had given. She looked around at the players who were still standing on the field. "What you mean? Do they play football in their underwear?"

Tony stood up, smiling dreamily. "Combines two of my favorite sports…" Then seeing Gibbs had stopped and was giving him a harsh stare, he quickly began sketching again on his i-Pad. Gibbs shook his head and stepped through the double doors that lead to the clinic.

"I cannot believe you that you are so immature, Tony!" Ziva said harshly.

Tony stopped sketching again. "Hey, the LFL is serious football, Probationary Agent David."

Ziva though, was not buying it. She turned to Tim who was just coming out onto the field. His slow steady gait reminded them that Tim was still suffering.

"He is kidding, yes?" she said in an exasperated voice to the MIT Grad.

"Um well," Tim looked momentarily stunned as he looked from Ziva to Tony and then back again. Not sure what to say next, he began taking pictures of sideline where Colton fell. Then he figured out what to say to her. "Uh, no Ziva; actually the LFL is a true football league. They play on indoor 50 yard fields just like this one, kinda like Arena Football-"

Ziva was able to grasp this concept. "Arena Football? Ah yes! The football game they play inside! The Canadians play in an arena too – they are quite good – I saw a game once-"

"Not to rain on your parade, McElderly," Tony said interrupting the conversation, "but it's a little different from plain old arena football. First, the game has two 17 minute halves, with a 15 minute halftime and an eight minute sudden death overtime. A touchdown is six points; a two yard conversion run is one point and a five yard conversion run is five points, and there are two passing plays and two rushing plays for every four downs."

Tim was awed. "Wow Tony, I'm impressed. You really do know about the game-"

Tony gave Tim an irritated look. "Of course I know about the game - it's football, McGimpy," he said with self-righteous indignation. "It's as American as mom and apple pie!"

"And they play football in their underwear," Ziva said snidely, not liking the way Tony was treating Tim.

Tony gave her a momentarily annoyed look. "Yes Ziva, and they play football* in their underwear* but its serious stuff-"

The former Mossad agent was about to follow her exasperated eye roll with another sharp tongued retort when Medical Examiner Donald 'Ducky' Mallard and his medical assistant, Jimmy Palmer, appeared.

Jimmy was looking around like he was in the Sistine Chapel. "Wow, I'm really here…" he looked up at the scoreboard. "Hey the Seattle Mist! I saw them play the other night on MTV…against the Baltimore Charm…" he said dreamily but he quickly became serious and his faced showed a hint of embarrassment when he saw the angry look on Ziva's face.

Tony walked over to Jimmy wanting to celebrate the victory, "And Baltimore," and high fived with him. "Decimated them!" he said emphasizing the win with a slap. Jimmy smiled broadly for a moment then remembering Agent David's scowl, became serious again.

Tony, though, was on a roll. "Their quarterback," he babbled, "Misty Johnson-"

Ziva couldn't stand any more of this garbage. "Misty?" she scoffed with a mocking giggle. "I cannot believe a woman named 'Misty' can be a football player of any kind-"

"For your information, Zi-va, Tony said emphasizing the syllables in the former Mossad Agent's first name. "Misty Johnson has been the leading scoring player for the Baltimore Charm this year!" He said in defensive tone but with that all knowing smirk on his face.

"I'll bet," Ziva said with a hint of teasing sarcasm, trying to be one of the boys.

"But she'll be in trouble if she ever goes up against 'The Train'" Jimmy warned, wanting to rejoin the conversation.

Tony looked at the Autopsy Gremlin for a moment and then nodded sagely. "Uh yeah. The Train would most definitely make quick work of her…"

"The Train?" Ziva said looking confused again. "This woman, she is big like a train?"

Tony and Jimmy chuckled, earning them another cutting glare from Ziva.

"No, she hits like a train," Tim said piping up. "Her name is Chantal Weeks, Ziva. Her nickname is 'The Train'."

"This is so confusing," Ziva admitted to Ducky.

Ducky smiled in sympathy at her befuddlement. "Ah yes, the Lingerie Football League. Well, Tony, you should be of invaluable service on this case then…."

Ziva gave the NCIS Medical Examiner a curious look. "He told you about them?"

Ducky gave her an embarrassed glance. "Well, he rather showed me about them, Ziva, so to speak…. Not break up this discussion, but would you be so kind as to show Mr. Palmer and myself to the clinic? Gibbs said we'd find Staff Sergeant Colton there…." Doctor Mallard hoped his need to examine the body would get him away from this touchy situation.

"Of course, Ducky." Ziva said leading Jimmy and Ducky inside. As she opened the door to follow them in, she cast another baleful look at Tony.

"All their games are recorded and available from the LFL site, Agent David." Tony said wanting to win this battle with her. Why, he didn't know.

Ziva didn't answer. She gave Tony one last look while shaking her head, and then she stepped inside as the doors shut.

"What's her problem?" Tony said looking at the closed doors.

"She has a hang-over, Tony," Tim said, trying to get his mind back on the crime scene.

"Yeah, that's probably it," Tony said absently. Tim rolled his eyes when the Senior Field Agent turned his back to him.

"Yeah, probably," Tim said sarcastically, but Tony didn't pick up on his tone. Instead he was entranced by the visions of loveliness that were standing on the opposite sideline watching them. Several members of the Bombshells and Mist had gathered there.

**xxixx**

**Gibbs met Ziva, Ducky and Jimmy** as they entered the clinic. Donald 'Ducky' Mallard made his way over to the body of Staff Sergeant Colton and began looking him over while Jimmy lifted up Colton's shirt and inserted the liver probe.

"What do we have, Duck?" Gibbs said in his usual clipped manner.

Doctor Mallard continued his minute examination of the dead Staff Sergeant. "Timothy was correct about single gunshot wound to the chest. But I'm not certain yet, Jethro, that was the cause of death. I'd like to make a more thorough examination of the Staff Sergeant when we get him back to Autopsy."

"Liver probe indicates time of death is consistent with the information given to us by Ziva, Doctor," Jimmy replied as he removed the probe.

Ducky nodded. "Ziva, you mentioned something about an odd odor coming from the Staff Sergeant's drink bottle?"

"Yes Ducky. I don't immediately recognize it as any known poison. Tim said it registered as contact lens cleaning solution."

The NCIS Medical Examiner frowned. "Hmmm, well my dear, I'm not sure anyone could get a high enough concentration in there to kill the Staff Sergeant, but we'll let Abby determine that."

Ducky decided to do another, closer examination of Colton. "No stippling or gunshot residue, so this shot was not taken at close range…."

Ducky looked over at Doctor Travers. "Did he have an exit wound?"

Travers, who had been watching these government investigators with detached interest, shook his head. "Not that I could find, Doctor Mallard." He responded politely.

Ducky went back to his detailed exploration of the deceased Staff Sergeant's body. "Uh hmm, did you check his back?"

"There weren't any rips or tears in the back of his shirt." Travers reported.

"What is it, Duck?" Gibbs said as he looked at Ducky continuing his examination and then began focusing on the bullet wound.

"I'm not sure, Jethro," Ducky said as continued looking at the wound. "Mr. Palmer, will you help me roll the Staff Sergeant?"

"Sure Doctor,"

Jimmy moved in and helped turn Colton on his side. Ducky minutely examined the dead Staff Sergeant's back. "How odd. There doesn't appear to be any exit wound. That either means the wound wasn't fatal-"

"-or that he died from internal bleeding." Ziva said finishing the thought for him.

Ducky looked up and gave her warm smile for her hypothesis. "Precisely, Agent David. Come along Mr. Palmer. Let's get Staff Sergeant Colton ready for transport."

"Yes Doctor," Jimmy replied as he set up the portable gurney and opened a body bag.

"Ziva, would mind helping?" Ducky said as he grabbed one end of the sheet the Staff Sergeant was laying on.

"Not at all Ducky," she replied grabbing the other end.

**To Be Continued…**


	2. Chapter 2

***Phoof**

**Gibbs looking perplexed at an obviously distraught Meredith Leigh.**

The gray haired leader of the Washington, DC Major Case Response Team [MCRT] made his way into Forensic Specialist Abby Sciuto's lab. He immediately noticed the music she had on was less frenetic than her other choices, but that was not his concern. He had a killer to catch.

"What have you got, Abbs?" Gibbs said while looking at her multicolored computer screen display.

Abby looked more like death warmed over than usual. "A major headache from my New Year's Eve bowling party with the Sisters, but you don't want to hear about that…" She quickly tapped a few keys on her keyboard and brought up a graph chart for Gibbs to see. "Major Mass Spec found hydrogen peroxide, benzalkonium chloride, benzyl alcohol, disodium edetate, tetrasodium edetate and sorbic acid. Your basic contact lens cleaning solution, Gibbs. No other foreign substances, unless you want to count all the icky foreign matter in the Maryland County water supply. They say its parts per billion,  
>but-"<p>

"Abby…" Gibbs said warningly.

She looked momentarily contrite. "Right - getting back to the case. The concentration of lens solution was high Gibbs-"

"Could it have killed him?" the silver haired Head of the DC MCRT wondered aloud.

Abby gave him a wicked grin in spite of her current condition. "Only if he mainlined the stuff …" Then she saw that she had said the wrong thing. "Sorry," she said meekly. Then she returned to her analysis. "There was enough there to make him sick, but not super sick."

"So why did you call me down here?" Gibbs asked. They were wasting time just looking at useless charts as far as he was concerned.

"Patience, oh Great One. I found a partial on the snap lid of the water bottle." She hit another set of keys and produced a computer graphic image of the print found with flashing markers indicating the ridges and loops.

Gibbs leaned in close to look at the print. "That's it?"

Abby rolled her eyes. "No, that's not all. Geez, you never let me have my moment-"

"Abby!" Gibbs barked trying to get her focus back to the case.

"Okay, okay! I found a set of prints on the underside of the cap that was screwed onto the bottle. Whoever was trying to make the Staff Sergeant sick had trouble getting the plastic straw seated just right, so they man-handled it and left prints all over the underside of the cap."

He looked back at her. "Did you get a match?"

"Nothing from the FBI, but I did get a match on set of prints for a local stalking case. Involving one Lance Corporal Meredith Leigh…she was suspected of doing the stalking…."

"And she also happens to play for the Bethesda Bombshells." Gibbs said thinking aloud again. He gave the Forensic Specialist a kiss on the cheek. "Good job, Abbs." He said softly. "Sorry about the bark, but I had to get you to focus."

"It's okay, Gibbs. I needed that bark. I'm feeling pretty scattered today," the Goth specialist admitted.

As he left the room, Abby with a self-satisfied smile on her face, gently rubbed her cheek.

**Lance Corporal Meredith Leigh** was now in her dress winter uniform, her brunette hair done in a single tight bun. She looked nervously around the darkened charcoal room. A single set of lights shone on the table illuminating her and the chair across from her.

She started when Leroy Jethro Gibbs entered the room without preamble and dropped a folder on the table as he sat down opposite her.

"Tell me about your relationship with Staff Sergeant Colton," he began blandly.

Her eyes darted uneasily around the room. "He's my coach-" she began.

Gibbs chuckled and shook his head.

"What?" Meredith asked, her voice filled with obvious dread. She didn't like this place and she especially didn't like this NCIS Agent.

Gibbs continued chuckling. "He's just your coach? You don't really expect me to believe that, Corporal, do you?"

"It's the truth," she said defensively but her weak voiced rebuttal told him that she was hiding something.

Gibbs chuckled again, this time letting a wry smile show through. "The truth? Ah, well, now that's a good one…"

**Ziva, Tim, and Tony** were watching the interrogation through the one way mirror.

"Ah, Meredith Leigh," Tony turned to his audience, "She's new to the game, you know." Seeing that neither agent really cared what Tony thought about the suspect, he turned and focused on viewing the pretty girl. "Young, petite, slight, brown hair – not really what you would think of as an LFL player – but she's surprisingly strong…"

Tony let that idea drift in the air as he turned and caught Ziva shaking her head.

"What's the matter Agent David, is your Mossad ninja sense tingling?" Tony quipped.

Ziva shot him a momentarily irritated look. "I do not believe she did it," she said firmly.

Tony gave her a look of disbelief. "By 'it' do you mean the stalking or the killing?" He probed.

Ziva turned to face him. "The killing, Tony," she said simply.

"So, do *you* think she did it?" she asked him.

"She could have," Tony said, giving the suspect an apprising look. He turned to Tim. "What do you think, ailing Elf lord?"

"I think I want to hear what Gibbs has to say to her." Tim said tersely motioning to the technician to turn up the volume.

"Looking for more material for your next bestseller, McNovelist?" Tony said snidely, trying to get in the last word.

Tim was about to fire back when Gibbs' harsh voice reverberated through the room as he slammed the bagged water bottle on the table in front of her.

"You spiked his water bottle, Corporal! It would have been just as easy for you to put a bullet in him!"

Meredith looked like she was on the verge of bursting into tears. "I swear to you, Special Agent Gibbs, I didn't kill him…I couldn't…I…I loved him….I only wanted to make him sick so he would want me to take care of him."

Gibbs watched Leigh closely. The tale-tell signs he always saw in a killer weren't there. His gut told him she was telling the truth. Though she had tried to make her true love sick, she hadn't wanted him dead.

**-TBC…**


	3. Chapter 3

***Phoof**

**Gibbs standing and looking at the now empty bullpen then he begins smiling that wry smile of his.**

The next morning, Tim and Tony were back at the sports arena.

"Tony, whatever happened with M. Allison Hart? The last we heard from her was last spring." Tim asked as they headed down the sidelines at the stadium toward the group of players.

The Senior Field Agent slowed his pace, waxing poetic. "Ah yes, McGeester; the lawyer cum girlfriend of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs – jet black hair, icy blue eyes…a tale for another time." Then he resumed his purposeful stride toward the Bombshell players.

Tim shook his head, regretting that he had asked. He was about to ask Tony what his cryptic comment meant when a commotion on the field got their attention.

"You crossed the line of scrimmage!"

"Oh for Pete's sake, Alycia give it rest! She did not cross the line of scrimmage!" snapped the player who had 'Wills' emblazoned across the back of her bare midriff shirt.

But Alycia would have none of this. "Annabelle crossed the line of scrimmage!" she announced loudly so anyone who was in shouting distance could hear her. "We need to do the play over again!"

Annabelle took off her helmet and threw a disgusted look at Alycia. "I stumbled, but I did not cross the line, Alycia…" The rest of the assembled players seemed to agree with Annabelle's assessment of the situation.

Before Alycia could launch into another tirade, the coach hurried out onto the field and took her by the arm. "Look Alycia, maybe you'd better sit this one out, let Heather work with-"

"Heather is all looks and no brains, RR," she shot back venomously, wrenching her arm away from the surprised coach. "If you want to win this next game put her on the bench, not me!"

"Hey!" Heather said, her voice betraying astonishment and shock as if she had never heard anything like this before from Alycia.

"Watch your mouth Jones," growled Annabelle. It was obvious she had had just about enough of little Miss Alycia Jones.

"Or what, Tinkerbelle?" Alycia taunted. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"That does it!" Annabelle said throwing down her helmet as she rushed at Alycia.

Alycia squealed as she braced for the impact. RR jumped back as they two players collided.

Tony and Tim stood transfixed as the players rushed to separate the two fighting teammates. RR looked on, seemingly reluctant to intervene in what was quickly developing into a serious fight. Then he seemed to decide that since he was the only coach on the field, he should intervene. Tim absently pulled out his i-phone and snapped off a few pictures of the rapidly developing brawl.

Anthony DiNozzo suddenly came out of his dreamy reverie and began running toward the women. "Uh hey, stop!" Tim, shoving his i-phone in his coat pocket, took off after him.

The women and the coach all turned as one and looked at the two rapidly approaching men. Chantal had both Annabelle and Alycia in a headlock.

"Who are you?" Brittany Wills said as she got up off the artificial turf and faced the two men approaching them. She noted they were both good looking men.

Tony pulled out his wallet ID and showed it to them. "Special Agents DiNozzo and McGee, NCIS. We need to ask you a few questions-"

"Get offa me Chantal," Alycia huffed as she wriggled out of the large African American woman's grip. She gave Tony a surly look. "No offense slick, but don't you already have one of our safeties in your custody?"

"We do, but she's not the killer," Tony replied evenly, showing her he wasn't ruffled by her bluster.

Annabelle, who had not attempted to free herself from Chatal's gentle, but firm, grip looked up at the two Navy Cops. "But she did spike his water…"

"Yes, she admits to that," Tim added.

Chantal shook her head. "Poor girl. I told her that there were plenty of other guys around that would love to go out with her." She looked up at the two Special Agents for a moment and then quickly released Annabelle as she stood up. "I'm Chantal-"

"—Chantal Weeks, linebacker for the Bombshells, yeah I know all about you…." Tony finished for her with a hint of admiration.

Tony could tell the woman was flattered. "You do?"

"He's a big fan of your league—"Tim started to say, seeing a chance to get Tony back for some of his earlier digs.

But Tony was too quick for him "-In particular the Bethesda Bombshells. But right now I have to put that aside because we're conducting a murder investigation."

There were no shocked murmurs that ran through the players. They all knew they were suspects.

Annabelle was now standing as well. "So you think one of us did it?"

This time Tim beat Tony to the punch. "We didn't say that. We just want to interview you, find out what you know, if you might have seen or heard anything."

Tim noted that Alycia rolled her eyes, obviously irritated by the idea of these Navy Cops talking to her about this major inconvenience. "Well, if it wasn't Miss Doe-Eyed Marine that did it, then you should talk to our coach. He'd know more about who didn't like Jimmy."

Tony turned his attention to this brash, but pretty woman. He was pretty sure she was the one that instigated this fight in the first place. "Are you the spokesperson for your group, Miss-?"

Alycia separated herself from the others and moved toward her target. She gave him a big bright smile. "Jones, *Miss* Alycia Jones-"

"-She doesn't speak for all of us, Special Agent DiNozzo," Annabelle said, deliberately stepping in front of her, "but she's right in that RR would know more about who liked and disliked Coach Colton."

Tony nodded trying to appear all business even though 'Annabelle' was very attractive. "I'll do that Miss-"

"Ms. Lewiston. Annabelle Lewiston."

Tony held her gaze for a moment longer than he should have before chuckling nervously. If Gibbs had been here that gaze would have earned him a head slap. "Ah well, yes, Ms. Lewiston, I'll do just that."

Tony turned to the doughy older man who was standing behind Chantal and Annabelle. As if on cue, he stepped forward. "Robert Richardson, officers; the ladies sometimes call me RR."

Tim nodded to Tony. "Is there someplace we can talk, coach?" Tony said as he steered the man away from the group of women that Tim was now beginning to talk to.

RR was lost in the moment. Maybe it was rare when someone actually wanted to talk to him. "Sure, let's go back to my office." He said as he made a grand sweeping gesture toward the side of the field. "Ladies, take five."

**Ziva clicked the remote** as she pointed at the MCRT Bullpen screen. On it appeared the service record for their murder victim. "Staff Sergeant James R. Colton, known to Bethesda Bombshells as 'Jimmy' Colton. He was a Marine Reservist assigned to the 21st Marine Regiment. Impeccable record. Served honorably in Iraq, most notably in Fallujah as a Sergeant and then In Afghanistan in Helmand Province during Operation Moshtarak as a Staff Sergeant.

"Al Qaeda?" Tim ventured as he tried to adjust his seat to a more comfortable position. The pain pills were wearing off. "Chatter has claimed that they would hunt down those who were involved with those operations."

"Possible," Ziva said in response as she clicked the remote again before Tony could get a word in edgewise showing the service record of another Marine. "But a better suspect might be Corporal Gene Lewiston, a fellow reservist in the same unit."

"Yeah? Why is that?" Gibbs asked as he moved closer to the screen, examining Lewiston.

" Corporal Lewiston, formerly Sergeant Lewiston, was also with Colton in Helmand Province," Tim said beating Tony to the punch again. "He was court-martialed and reduced in rank from Sergeant to Corporal for conduct unbecoming during the fighting."

The silver haired Senior NCIS Agent nodded his approval. "Ziva, you and Tim go find out what you can from the Corporal."

"On it, Boss!" Tim said as he and Ziva grabbed their gear and left the bullpen to Tony and Gibbs.

He gave Tony a harsh stare. "Well, what do you have?"

"If McGeek had let me get a word in edgewise, I would have presented something I think you should know." Tony grumbled as the elevator closed on a grinning Tim and Ziva.

"Well, I'm listening now, DiNozzo," he said blandly.

"Right, well," He picked up the remote Ziva had left on his desk and pointed it at the screen. When he clicked it, a publicity photo of Annabelle Lewiston appeared next to Corporal Lewiston's record. "Ms. Annabelle Lewiston happens to be the wife of Corporal Lewiston…"

"And?" Gibbs said pointedly. Tim had told him earlier that the interviews with the players yielded little useful information.

"Well Boss, she might know something that she didn't reveal to McGee about her husband…."

Tony could see the Head of the MCRT weighing this possibility. Finally he sighed and waved his hand, "Go, see what she'll tell you."

"Thanks Boss," Tony said as he gathered his gear and headed for the elevator.

Gibbs walked over to his desk and sat down. He looked over his cubicle wall at Tony entering the elevator. A big self-satisfied smile was plastered on the Senior Agent's face. Gibbs just shook his head as a wry smile crossed his face.

**Tim rang the doorbell** on what could only be described as a McMansion. After a few moments, the door opened a crack. "Yeah? What do you want?"

Ziva and Tim produced their badges. "Corporal Lewiston? NCIS," Ziva said in an official tone. "We need to ask you a few questions."

"Look, can this wait until later? I'm kinda in the middle of something…." He paused, hoping they would understand.

"We really need to speak with you now," Tim said little more forcefully. He wasn't about to let this guy weasel out of this.

Ziva moved closer to the door and tried to soften the blow. "Please, it will only take a few minutes…."

Gene looked at her and seemed to be debating the idea. Finally he sighed heavily and after taking the chain off the door, opened it wider.

"Come on in," he said in a defeated voice.

Tim and Ziva stepped in and realized Corporal Lewiston had been online. His laptop was sitting on the coffee table in front of the television. Beside the table was a basket full of folded laundry.

"Online gaming?" Tim asked innocently.

Gene Lewiston made a face. "Looking for a job. I'm going to be out of the service soon."

"You're not re-enlisting?" Ziva said feigning ignorance.

"Not much choice. My Staff Sergeant sort of ended that option for me."

"Your Staff Sergeant being-"

"-my Staff Sergeant being James Colton. Look, I hate to cut this short, but I have interview via Skype in about 30 minutes and I want to be sure I can answer all their questions."

Ziva, who had been looking around the room, turned to him and nodded. "Well, then we'll make this as short as possible. Can you tell us where you were yesterday during the game between the Bethesda Bombshells and Seattle Mist?"

The former Marine looked shocked. "I'm a murder suspect? You think I killed him?"

"The Staff Sergeant did have you court martialed," Tim said.

"Great. Just great." He sighed. Then he looked at both of them. "I was here, looking for a job online…"

"Can anyone verify that?" Ziva probed.

"My wife. I told her before she left for the game I was going to stay home and do an interview. I was having an interview with an internet startup company…"

"What is the name of the company?" Tim said as he scribbled down some notes. He could have just as easily put it into his i-phone, but Tony's old fashioned ideas-at least this one-were rubbing off on him.

"Findisher Incorporated. They, uh, sell intimate products to women and uh, men. You don't have to tell them about this investigation, do you?"

Ziva and Tim exchanged questioning glances. "I believe we can keep your name out of it for the time being," Tim said turning back to Lewiston.

"Great." Gene said obviously looking relieved. "Look, I know I haven't been exactly friendly here, but I'm leveling with you now. I don't hold anything against Jimmy, uh, the Staff Sergeant. He and I were friends…good friends before Operation Moshtarak…"

"So what happened? " Ziva asked. She had to admit she was intrigued by what may have happened between these two. After all, he didn't seem like your typical washout.

He looked down and shook his head. "I got cocky. Maybe too cocky. Got some of my men injured. At the time it didn't seem like a big deal…."

"But it was," Tim finished for him.

He nodded. "Yeah, it was." He paused for a moment as if watching that career ending scene replay again. "Anyway, it ended our friendship. He didn't think I was Sergeant material…maybe he was right. Now, I'm just trying to get my life back on track."

**Tony was walking down** the length of the indoor stadium when he heard a burly threatening voice.

"Look, I told you ladies before. When the game is over, you need to vacate this place, understand?"

Tony's eyes focused on Annabelle Lewiston being confronted by tall heavyset gentleman wearing an overcoat. He definitely looked like a football player, but he didn't remember seeing him before.

Annabelle wasn't about to wilt under his harsh tone. "And you need to understand that we will, just as soon as this murder investigation is over with!"

"Murder investigation? What murder investigation? Who got killed?"

Annabelle rolled her eyes in irritation. "Geez, Tayron, where have you been hiding? Jimmy got killed at the game yesterday!"

_He did? If he's putting on act,_ Tony observed, _it's Emmy level acting._

Annabelle, though, wasn't buying the innocent act. In fact, she crossed her arms as she stood in front of this hulking man. "Yeah, he did, where were you anyway? You usually come to watch him coach."

_She'd make a good detective,_ Tony thought as Tayron was obviously rocked by the question.

"I…I was busy," he said evasively.

"Busy doing what?" Tony asked as he entered the conversation offering them his 'put them at ease' smile.

Tayron gave him a harsh look. It was obvious he thought this guy was horning in on a private conversation. "Who are you?"

Tony produced his identification and badge. "Special Agent DiNozzo, NCIS, Tayron…." Tony let the name drift, hoping this football player would pick up on the fact he needed to identify himself to a law enforcement officer.

"…Tayron Conrad –not that it's any of your business." He wasn't intimidated by this guy at all – even if he did have some kind of badge. Besides, it might be fake.

Tony's considerable knowledge of sports and trivia helped him recognize who this was. Tayron Conrad, former NFL 15th round draft pick for the Cleveland Browns, benched after his first year preseason play, he then moved to Arena Football with Alberta Claim Jumpers was picked up by the Washington Potomacs last year.

Tony continued smiling but his voice took on a different tone. "Oh, but Tayron, it is my business, especially when I find you in here talking in a threatening tone to a member of the Bombshells, and there's already been one murder."

Tayron considered that for a moment.

"I've never heard of guys, what's NCIS stand for anyway?" He replied in a terse voice. It was obvious it would take more to convince this guy that he was intimidating the wrong person.

"Naval Criminal Investigative Service, Tayron. You might call us Navy Cops. You see, when Staff Sergeant Colton was killed, it became a federal case…our case."

That registered with the football player. Tony figured that due to his bulk he was probably some kind of defensive lineman.

"I didn't have anything to do with it. I wasn't here." Tayron said sounding even more on the defensive than before.

"Oh? So where were you? You never did answer Ms. Lewiston's question."

Tayron screwed up his face in irritation. "Man, I don't have to answer her question."

"Ah, true, but you do have to answer mine, Tayron…by the way, who do you play for anyway?" Tony's smile had faded. It was time for tough cop mode.

"The Washington Potomacs," he huffed out, obviously outmaneuvered. "I'm one of their defensive linemen."

Tony's smile came back and grew even wider as Tayron confirmed what he thought. "No fooling? I thought I recognized you, man."

He and Tony shook hands, much to the consternation of Annabelle. She thought he was on her side.

"I used to play for Ohio State."

"Dude, I heard about you. You were the man."

"And I read about your last game, man, tough break," Tony said with what sounded like genuine sympathy. He could see that Annabelle was about to blow a gasket. He had to play this quick.

"Yeah, that Oregon player better be as good as he was this time the next time we meet." Tayron growled.

It was football player talk for 'I'm gonna make him sorry for doing that'. Tony knew all about that kind of revenge, but the important question to be asked - was Tayron the kind of man who could be pushed to kill someone?

"He just got lucky, eh?" Tony said conspiratorially, trying to draw him out.

Tayron chuckled ruefully. "Yeah man, real lucky."

Tony chuckled as well. "Well, I hate to put a damper on greeting like this, but I still need to know where you were …cop business…you know…."

Annabelle immediately understood what Tony was doing. She still wasn't happy with the Special Agent, but she'd give him some rope to see how this played out.

"Yeah man, I understand…just so you know, I didn't have anything to do with this. I was practicing with the rest of our team at our backup field," he turned to Annabelle. "'cause your game ran long."

Annabelle fought the urge to respond to his snide comment.

"So you weren't here at all…" _Scratch another promising suspect off the list…_ Tony thought glumly.

Now it was Tayron's turn to look depressed. "No man. The coach was ragging on me 'cause of what happened at the game with Oregon."

Tony nodded his understanding. "I see…so about what you were saying to Annabelle?"

"Hey look, I didn't mean nothing by it. I tend to get mouthy when I'm tired. No hard feelings Ms. Lewiston?"

He stuck out his hand to her. Annabelle tentatively took his hand. "No, no hard feelings Tayron." Her voice didn't sound very confident of this fact.

"Look, Jimmy…he was a good guy, a stand-up coach. He did right by you and the other ladies. I mean that."

Annabelle was touched by his unusually kind words. "Thank you, Tayron."

Tayron kind of shrugged, half embarrassed by her warm look. "Yeah, well, I gotta head back, seeing's how this field is off limits for the time being. Good to meet you, Special Agent DiNozzo. Come by the ticket office sometime, I'll get you tickets to a game."

"I'll do that Tayron, see ya."

As soon as the football player was out of earshot, Annabelle turned to a still grinning Tony.

"You are a piece of work, Agent DiNozzo," she said with obvious admiration.

Tony turned to her. "Just doing my job, Ms. Lewiston." Now came the hard part, finding out, without pissing her off, if she had anything to do with Colton's death.

**Tony was deep in thought** when the elevator doors opened. He walked into the MCRT bullpen and headed straight for his desk.

"So what happened to your promising lead, Tony?" Ziva said teasingly, a puckish smile on her face. "It didn't pan out?"

It was evident Gibbs had told her he was out chasing down a possible lead. Tony gave her an irritated look. "That's pot out, Ziva. Didn't pot out."

Ziva's face screwed up in confusion. "Pot out? That doesn't sound right."

Tony raised his hands in supplication. "I'm too tired for this. You're right – it is pan out." He sat down with a thump in his chair.

Ziva was momentarily peeved but noticed that Tony really was taking this hard. "So we do not have any suspects?" She said with a touch of sympathy in her voice.

"Zip, zero, zilch, nada." The Senior Field Agent said dejectedly as he absently tapped his pencil on his desk pad as he thought about this case. "Solid alibis." He looked over at the former Mossad agent. "What about Corporal Lewiston?"

"The same." Tony and Ziva shared a frustrated sigh.

"Campfire." Both agents turned to Tim who was smiling for the first time since they had started this investigation.

Tony gave him a questioning and indignant look. "What are you doing calling a 'campfire'? I'm the only one who can call a campfire- besides Gibbs, that is,"

Tim shook his head – he wasn't about to be dissuaded from this. "C'mon Tony it might help us."

Ziva nodded in agreement. "Yes, we should try it."

Tony paused, appearing to mull over the idea. "Outvoted two to one…of course I am Senior Field Agent and could veto-"

Gibbs who had been on the other side of the bullpen partition stuck his head up, surprising the three Agents. "I agree with McGee."

Tony looked stunned. Gibbs gave him a wry smile. "C'mon DiNozzo, a 'campfire' might do us all some good on this case."

"My thoughts exactly, Boss," Tony said automatically. "Campfire!"

"McGee called it first, Tony." Gibbs reminded him as he entered the bullpen area while the other three agents pulled their chairs into a semi-circle. Gibbs stood at the outer edge by Tim's desk, leaning on a file cabinet.

"Right, Boss. So you were saying, McCampfire leader?"

The four MCRT Agents huddled together. Despite the dig, Tim was pleased that Tony was going to let him take the lead on this, and a little intimidated.

"Well, Tim?" Gibbs prompted.

The gray haired Senior NCIS Agent's prod got Tim talking. "Ah well, first we have Staff Sergeant Colton. No enemies on the team-"

"Except for the player who had a 'Fatal Attraction' style love for Colton. Great movie by the way," Tony quipped while smiling and looking around at everyone. That earned him a cutting stare from Gibbs. Tony coughed as if something were stuck in his throat. "Continue Tim," he replied in subdued voice.

Tim nodded his thanks to Gibbs. Ziva was glad that he was there to keep Tony in line. "But we know Lance Corporal Leigh, didn't do it." she offered.

"Right," said Tim getting in to being leader, "We know he was shot…"

"But not at close range…someone would have noticed!" Tony was also getting into the verbal brainstorming.

Tim nodded, equally excited about what Tony had thought of. "Right! But then, who shot him and how?"

"Some kind of long range weapon," Gibbs said thinking aloud, joining the conversation for the first time.

Tony was shocked and a little pleased that Gibbs was actually joining the conversation instead of just acting as a watchdog to rein him in. The last time Gibbs had joined a campfire, it was because Tony was lead on the case.

This time, though, he had backed having a campfire, but with Tim leading, of course.

"Low velocity…not strong enough to make an exit wound…." Ziva said adding to Gibbs' thoughts.

"But strong enough to make a fatal wound." Gibbs was also thinking about who might be able to make a gun like this…a gunsmith…or someone with military experience…specifically black ops experience.

"Then, we need to go back and re-interview all involved with the case," Tim said spelling out the next logical step.

"Campfire over." Gibbs said as he moved away from the file cabinet. " Tony-"

Tony and Ziva were already at their desks, grabbing their guns and coats. "Take Ziva with me and start re-interviewing all members of the Bombshells, on it, Boss!"

Gibbs looked over at Tim. "McGee-"

Tim tapped a few keys on his keyboard and then headed for the stairs. "Get with Abby and go over the stadium cameras' video streams again, got it, Boss!"

The silver haired Senior NCIS Agent stood for moment looking at the now empty bullpen then began smiling that wry smile of his.

-TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

***Phoof**

**Leon Vance and Gibbs having a tense meeting.**

Tim entered Autopsy to see Abby, Ducky, and Jimmy in a huddle over what looked like a specimen jar on one of examination tables.

"Ah well, what do we have here?" Dr. Mallard seemed to be speaking to the jar.

"What's going on?" Tim asked as he peered over at the trio.

"A bit of a mystery, Timothy." Ducky replied, indicating what was in the jar as they all looked up at him.

As Tim McGee tried to get a better look at the bullet, Abby snatched up the jar and headed toward him.

Abby had a look of determination on her face. "C'mon Tim," she said as she started to snag McGee's arm and began to drag him back towards the door. The junior NCIS Agent though, saw what she was going to do and dipped out of the way.

"Tim?" She said with a puzzled look on her face.

Tim shot a brief apologetic look at Abby but he really wanted to know what Dr. Mallard was about to say. "Sorry Abby – uh, what's the mystery, Ducky?"

The NCIS Medical Examiner gave a sly smile. "The mystery, m'lad, is that the bullet from Staff Sergeant Colton's body-"

"-has some unusual striations-" Everyone turned and looked at Jimmy – who had the decency to look embarrassed for stealing Dr. Mallard's thunder. "-oh, uh, sorry, Doctor."

Ducky gave his assistant a sideways glance. "Ah yes, well, what Mr. Palmer said, is actually correct." Jimmy looked properly chastised.

"And I was going to see what kind of weapon made the striations," Abby said betraying the hurt in her voice.

Tim McGee was torn. He wanted Abby to know that he hadn't meant to hurt her feelings, but at the same time he really hadn't wanted her to drag him out of the room that way.

"Gibbs wants us to go over all the stadium cameras' video streams. He thinks there may be clue there about who shot Staff Sergeant Colton." He said to the NCIS Forensic Specialist, hoping that would make her forget his faux pas.

It didn't.

"What do you need me for, McGee?" Abby said petulantly. "You're the computer whiz. You don't need my help." If they could have, her words would have dripped icicles.

Ducky and Jimmy looked decidedly uncomfortable about what was taking place in front of them. Ducky cleared his throat. "Well ah, Mr. Palmer and I need to get back to our work-"

Tim could almost feel Gibbs whacking him on the back of the head for this. "Abby, look; I'm sorry; I didn't mean…what I did…and-"

The apology wasn't accepted…yet. "And?"

"And…I do need your help…please? You're good computer whiz yourself." Tim knew when it was time to 'cross swords' with her and when to yield. This was obviously a time to yield.

"Just good, Timmy?" She wasn't ready to let this go yet.

"Better…better than me." Tim said hoping that would appease her.

Ducky and Jimmy weren't sure what was going to happen next.

The Goth Forensic Specialist looked at him for a moment and then sighed. "You know that isn't true. You're a way better computer geek, Tim," Abby said relenting.

The NCIS Medical Examiner and his assistant began to smile.

"But I also need to figure out what kind of gun fired this bullet." She started to head for the door.

"You can't do both at the same time, Abby." Tim said trying to reason with her.

The NCIS Forensic Specialist looked momentarily annoyed. "McGee, I'm nothing if not a multitasker—or a time-slicer—or whatever they are calling it these days. C'mon, we got work to do."

**Gibbs decided** that since everyone else was busy tracking down persons of interest and following up on possible new leads, now was as a good time as any to get some coffee. As he punched the elevator button, the doors slid open to reveal Angie Simmons and Leon Vance.

The NCIS Director made the introductions as they stepped away from the elevator. "Gibbs, this is the Bethesda Bombshell's owner Ms.-"

"-Angie Simmons," Gibbs said brusquely, eyeing her as she did the same to him.

"You two have met before," Vance said in his own curt tone indicating he didn't like what was taking place at the moment.

The football team's owner began. "I met Officer Gibbs this earlier this afternoon-"

"Special Agent Gibbs," he said correcting her.

Gibbs could tell it infuriated her, but she was determined not to let him fluster her. "I met *Special Agent Gibbs* at the stadium when he and his group came to investigate what happened to my assistant coach, James Colton, an ex-Marine-"

"Staff Sergeant Colton is a Marine Reservist, Ms. Simmons," Leon Vance said in his best diplomatic tone, "He is still active duty when recalled."

"Okay," she said, not really understanding what Director Vance meant. "Anyway, I want to know what progress you're making on finding Colton's killer."

"It's an ongoing case, Ms. Simmons," Gibbs explained as politely as he could. "We have numerous leads to follow up on."

"You've had *all afternoon* to work on this, why haven't you found the killer yet?" It was obvious Angie Simmons believed in the 'magic timeline of television', which decreed all crimes could be solved in an hour, two if it were a made-for-television movie.

Gibbs and Vance exchanged bewildered looks at this statement.

"Uh, Ms. Simmons, Special Agent Gibbs is one of our best and he was formerly with the Marine Corps, so he'll find out who did this as quickly as possib-"

"You're an ex-Marine?" Angie said to Gibbs, cutting off Leon Vance's efforts to placate her.

Gibbs smiled, "I'm a former Marine, ma'am. Ex-Marines are dishonorably discharged."

"Sorry," she said insincerely, "*Former Marine*, my mistake."

"We all make mistakes," Gibbs said chuckling. "Like when you thought moving Staff Sergeant Colton's body was a good idea."

Gibbs actually thought he could see Angie Simmons' blood pressure rising. She threw down a verbal gauntlet. "The clock is *ticking* Special Agent Gibbs. In 24 hours, my girls are heading to Florida to play the Miami Caliente."

"Your team can't go anywhere until we finish our investigation, Ms. Simmons." Gibbs replied meeting her challenge. It wasn't true, but he hoped to rattle her – maybe she was involved in Colton's death.

Simmons became livid. "I'll take my team wherever I want, *Mister Gibbs*, and you can't stop me!"

Gibbs fired right back at her. "Someone, possibly someone on *your team* may have killed Staff Sergeant Colton, Ms. Simmons, and until we find out who did it, your team can't go anywhere!"

She looked incredulously at both men. "That's preposterous!" She sputtered. "No one on my team would have killed James Colton! You'll hear from my attorney about this!"

She spun around and stalked into the elevator which had just opened, the doors shutting on her before Leon Vance could say anything.

He turned to Gibbs. "I hope there was a good reason for you doing that."

"Yeah, Leon, she ticked me off!"

"Besides that," he snapped, "do you think she was involved?"

"She could be," Gibbs responded hotly to the Director. It was obvious he was still seething.

"I mean, do you have any proof besides your gut?" Vance replied dryly trying to bring him back to his senses.

"She's hiding something, Leon," Gibbs declared.

"Does your gut tell you that?" Vance wanted to be sure this was not just a reaction to Angie Simmons volatile personality.

"Yeah, it does." Gibbs said with determination.

"Okay then, find out what she's hiding—before she brings her lawyer back with her."

**-TBC...**


	5. Chapter 5

***Phoof**

**A startled Tony is grabbed by Chantal.**

Tony and Ziva walked into the MCRT bullpen, looking more depressed than they had been before Tim's Campfire.

Ziva sighed. "Well, we've checked out the stories of entire staff of the Bombshells."

Tony began rattling off who they had investigated as he sat down. "The head coach, offensive coach, defensive coach, fitness coach, the coach analyst-"

"—the equipment manager, physio-therapist, the general manager, the publicist, even the administrator," Ziva added, picking up where he left off. "The only people we *did not* talk to were, the team doctor and owner."

"They all have solid alibis." The former Baltimore police detective said distractedly.

"Which leaves us right where we started." Ziva said glumly sitting down in her chair with an audible thump.

"Guys, guys, guys!" It was Abby or rather Abby's face in a pop-up box in the corner of Ziva and Tony's computer screens. "Tim and I have found something! You need to get down here right away!"

Ziva and Tony exchanged a quick hopeful glance before they headed to Abby's Lab.

**The pigtailed Goth Forensic Specialist** had her frenetic music pulsating through the lab as Tony and Ziva entered.

Tony's face scrunched up as the music hit full crescendo. "Abby!" Ziva barked. Though her headache from earlier had subsided, it hadn't gone away completely.

Abby turned and nodded, hitting the button on her remote which lowered the music to an acceptable level.

"Sorry guys, it's just I'm really, really pumped right now,"

Tony looked over at Tim who was busily scanning LFL football footage. "How do you stand this?" he asked the MIT Grad. Tim didn't respond.

"Hey McTin Ears!" He tapped McGee on his shoulders. The agent turned and pulled the earbuds out his ears. "Did you say something, Tony?"

"Never mind." He turned back to Abby. "What do you got, Abbs?" He said tersely, wanting to get her mind back to her discovery.

"Wow, Tony, you sound just like Gibbs." She marveled as she remoted her discovery to the screen. "The student becomes the master."

"What are we looking at Abby?" Ziva said as she examined the multiple images of different misshapen bullets that had appeared on Abby's screens.

"I test fired several different types of pistols. Actually, I fired so many, I lost count. Anyway, I was trying to recreate the striations we found on the bullet pulled from Staff Sergeant Colton's body."

"And?" Tony prompted.

"And, the only one that could have made those kinds of marks on the bullet was this one." She tapped her remote again which isolated a rather crude looking instrument.

"A zip gun. We used to pick those up all the time when I was in Baltimore," Tony said absently as he looked at the image.

"A homemade pistol?" Ziva queried. She had heard about these, but oddly had never seen one until now.

Abby was practically bursting at her discovery. "Not just any homemade pistol, Ziva. One fitted with a silencer and having the range to kill the Staff Sergeant as he stood on the sidelines!"

Now what they discussed during the Campfire was starting to gel. The killer had used a zip gun with a crude silencer.

Hoping they would get something from the coverage of the game, Tony turned to the MIT Graduate. "And what have you got, Tim?" On the screen of his fellow NCIS agent were several images of the game from several different angles. Tony smiled absently as he watched Chantal and the others grapple on the field. That earned him a dig in the ribs from Ziva.

"Look," she said pointing to the screen when he gave her a dirty look. It was only picked up by one camera for a brief moment, which was why it was missed when the video of the game was searched before.

"Down at the end zone." Everyone turned to see Gibbs standing there. He pointed at the screen. "McGee! Freeze that image and get facial recognition on that guy!"

"On it, Boss!" Tim replied, freezing the image just as the figure took a shot towards Colton. Tim enlarged the image of the shooter, and facial recognition software began sifting through hundreds of comparable faces at lightning speed.

The computer beeped and flashed as a mug shot suddenly popped up next to the face Tim McGee had focused on.

Ziva began reading the rap sheet that appeared next to the mug shot. "DeJordan Long – armed robbery, larceny, assault with a deadly weapon, possession of an illegally modified weapon, domestic abuse against-Chantal Weeks!"

"Boss, it says that Long was arrested last week for violating his restraining order, but that he got out on bail." Tony added.

"When?" The silver-haired Agent looked closer at the image of Long.

"The day before yesterday." Tony replied.

"Let's go," Gibbs said to his trio of agents.

"Where are we headed?" Tony asked unnecessarily.

"Back to the stadium," Gibbs replied tersely. His gut told him they need to get back there…now.

As they hustled out of the lab, Gibbs paused when he got to Abby. "Thank you, Abbs," He said as he gave her a large CafPow that he had been secreting up to this point.

As he left the room, the NCIS Forensic Specialist burst into a big smile.

"Go get 'em el Magnifico!" She waved at him and then hit the remote returning her music to its previous ear-splitting level.

**The NCIS Dodge Charger wove** its way through the late evening traffic headed toward the Bethesda Municipal Arena.

"Do you really think this guy will go back to the stadium, Boss?" Tim asked as Gibbs continued to maneuver around the slower moving vehicles. Ziva and the others were still in the process of putting in their earpieces.

As if to answer Tim's question, Tony's phone chittered. On the screen was a picture of Annabelle Lewiston in her football uniform. Exchanging a worried glance with Gibbs, he quickly answered it.

Before Tony could say anything, Annabelle's frightened voice could be heard on the other end of the call.

"Tony! Chantal's boyfriend is here! They just had a big fight, and now he's threatening to kill her!"

"Annabelle! Where are you!"

"At the stadium! We were practicing late! Hurry Tony, Hurry! Oh my God! He's going to kill her!"

Gibbs stomped on the accelerator, rocketing the car through a busy intersection.

**The Dodge Charger slammed** to a smoking stop as the Major Case Response Team barreled out of the car and headed to the arena entrance.

A security guard was waiting for them, his weapon drawn.

"Federal Officers!" Gibbs barked holding up his badge. "Where are the players?"

"Down on the field," the guard reported.

"Get your men down there! There's a murder suspect trying to kill one of your players!"

The man began running and speaking into his walkie-talkie as the MCRT moved into the stadium, weapons drawn.

Gibbs pointed to Ziva and motioned for her to head down the stairs to the field, Tony to enter the field from his left, and Tim from his right.

**As they entered the field**, the team could hear the shrieks and screams of the other players.

"I ain't playin' with you, woman!" a male voice yelled.

Ziva made her way down the steps as the players scattered off the field. Chantal had just back-handed a large man and he was down on his knees, shaking his head as the large woman thundered down the field away from him.

DeJordan was only momentarily stunned. He quickly got back up and pointed his pistol at Chantal. "That's the last time you disrespect me, woman!" He yelled.

"Federal Officers! Drop your weapon!" Gibbs barked as he leveled his Glock at the man.

Tony and Tim, moving in from opposite ends of the field, also leveled their weapons at DeJordan Long.

"Put your gun down now!" Ziva yelled. "Do it now!" By now, several of the stadium guards had also joined the MCRT, their handguns also drawn.

DeJordan looked around at the NCIS Agents and guards approaching him. For a moment, Gibbs thought he was going to open fire. Then he put the gun down on the field and raised his hands.

"It's cool man, it's cool, it's all good." He said, keeping his hands raised.

Tony grabbed Long roughly and put the handcuffs on him while Tim kept his weapon trained on him.

"Yeah, it's cool all right," Tony said to DeJordan as he handed him off to Ziva and Tim. "Come on, big guy, let's go have a talk,"

**On the way back** to the Naval Yard, DeJordan had bragged about his homemade weapon, happy to tell anyone in the car who would listen to him how his step-father, who was a gunsmith, had taught him how to build guns, hoping he would take an interest in the business. Unfortunately, DeJordan saw it as a means to further his criminal activities.

In the initial processing, Abby found cordite and sulfur residue on DeJordan's clothes as well as powder burns from his makeshift pistol.

Now Tayron sat in the interrogation room happily humming away to himself.

Gibbs banged open the door and slapped the thick, bulging tri-fold NCIS 'Case Investigation File' down in front of DeJordan Long causing him to flinch.

"Why did you kill Staff Sergeant James Colton? What did he ever do to you?"

DeJordan sat there shaking his head and smiling.

"What's so damned funny?" Gibbs snapped.

"Man, the players didn't mean anything to him. He was going back on active duty." DeJordan declared haughtily. "The owner had even said she was gonna fire him!"

Gibbs couldn't believe what he was hearing but it did confirm what his gut had told him about Ms. Simmons. "What does that have to do with anything?" he demanded.

DeJordan smile grew even wider. "Because, dude, he had been called back. She said he can't be leaving now. They would lose games the rest of the season, but he didn't care! And on top of it, he was messing with my woman – and when you mess with my woman, you mess with me!"

As he watched Gibbs continue to interrogate Long, Tony blanched. "There's a mental image I didn't want."

Ziva fought the urge to roll her eyes at his double entendre comment. "The sad part is, Tony, that Staff Sergeant Colton was not 'messing with' Chantal Weeks. It was all in DeJordan Long's mind. Chantal said that in her statement. That was what the restraining order was about."

"So he killed him for no reason at all," Tim said, the realization suddenly dawning on him.

"And to add insult to injury, the owner was going to fire Colton for reporting for active duty."

"She can't do that Ziva," Tim replied, "it's against the law."

"Only if they catch her, Tim." Tony said sagely. "But now we have witness that says she was going to do it."

**Tony was sitting** at his desk, as were Ziva and Tim, when the elevator dinged announcing its doors were opening. Out stepped Annabelle Lewiston, Chantal Weeks, Alycia Jones, and Brittany Wills. To Tony and Tim's disappointment, they were wearing street clothes.

Tony, Tim and Ziva stood. "Ladies, to what do we owe this visit?" Tony was oozing his usual charm.

Ziva fought to maintain her smile.

Annabelle spoke for the group. "Agent DiNozzo…Tony, we just came to thank you," She nodded toward Ziva and Tim. "And the other members of your team for what you did."

Ziva snorted and Tim smiled sheepishly.

Tony, sensing Gibbs might be near, started backpedaling. "Ah, uh, well…it's not really my team-"

"It's my team," Gibbs said interrupting Tony's explanation. He looked at the quartet of women.

Brittany spoke up before Annabelle could continue. "We were just stopping by to let Tony, uh, Special Agent DiNozzo, know that the team really appreciated your agents' efforts."

"Gibbs…Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs." The MCRT Head replied knowing that the LFL player didn't know his name. Besides she was a cute red head. He extended his hand to her.

Alycia stepped in front of Brittany, causing a brief scowl to flit across the red head's features. "Alycia, Alycia Jones, Special Agent Gibbs. We really, really appreciate what you did."

Gibbs smiled that shy smile of his as he chuckled. "We're just doing our job, Ms. Jones."

"What about your owner Ms. Simmons? Was she really going to try to fire Staff Sergeant Colton?" With Gibbs' and Vance's permission, Ziva had happily relayed to the LFL's Player's Commission what Ms. Angie Simmons had intended to do.

"Ms. Simmons had been firing reservists for years," Annabelle admitted. "She used that as an intimidation factor to keep the rest of us quiet, telling us no one's job was safe. The other reservists, we guess, didn't think it was worth the effort to fight her."

Brittany picked up the story from there. "Thanks to your efforts, the LFL Commissioner opened an official investigation and has named as interim owner, our General Manager, Cara Boughton."

"Cara's husband is a Naval Reservist," Alycia added.

"Executive Officer on USS Bainbridge, good man," Gibbs replied. The ladies smiled and nodded their agreement.

"Well, I appreciate Special Agent DiNozzo doing what he did. You saved my life." Chantal declared.

Tony's eyes flared at this announcement. "Well uh, like Special Agent Gibbs said, thanks isn't-"

Tony's faltering was halted by Chantal Weeks grabbing him and giving him a bear hug, much to the delight of Tim, Ziva and Gibbs.

**-FINIS**


End file.
